


A Hell of Heaven, A Heaven of Hell

by Peanut_McNut



Series: Comfortably Numb Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cain!Dean, Comfortably Numb sequel, Demon!Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Season 10 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 03:30:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1967343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanut_McNut/pseuds/Peanut_McNut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Dean is able to stop himself from doing more damage than he's already done under the influence of the Mark of Cain, Castiel and Sam set out on a mission to save Dean from the Mark, and from himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Hell of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wasn't planning on continuing my other fic, "Comfortably Numb" until later on, but then that quote slapped me in the face and my brain wouldn't let this go until I finished it. 
> 
> I don't think you need to have read "Comfortably Numb" to read this, but it would probably make more sense/be more fulfilling if you have. Either way, I hope you enjoy and kudos and comments are always most appreciated!

_“The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.” - John Milton, 'Paradise Lost'_

 

***

  
Together, Sam and Castiel hauled Dean out of the factory’s basement. Most of the fallen angels and hunters had already left the scene. Any left were working on clean up. They had maneuvered Dean into the car, but Castiel had refused to let go of him. Both of them had been sprawled in the backseat of the Impala, the angel clinging to Dean as Sam made record time down deserted back roads. All Sam could think about was getting his brother back home. It was a relief when they’d got Dean settled back into his room in the Bunker.  
  
Sam isn't sure why the First Blade didn’t kill Dean when he’d stabbed himself instead of Castiel, but he can’t deny the slow rise and fall of Dean’s chest. He guesses it's the same as before. The Mark healing Dean's injuries protects its own interests. The wound he’d inflicted on himself is already healed. The bloodstains surrounding the tear in the fabric of his blue T-shirt the only sign that anything had been wrong with him. Take away his arms and legs being chained to his bed with the demonic handcuffs Sam had retrieved from the dungeon, and Dean could almost pass for being asleep.  
  
Almost.  
  
Sam had been there when Metatron had stabbed Dean. He’d watched his brother take his last breath. He’d watched the light go out of his eyes as his body lay limp in his arms. He had cried for hours at his bedside after he’d brought Dean back home and laid him on his bed the first time around. Sam had made sure he was comfortable, fluffing his pillow under his head, even though Dean was gone and wouldn’t know the difference.  
  
Castiel hadn’t done any of that. By the time he’d made it back to Sam and the Bunker, Crowley had already taken Dean away. Castiel had never accepted the fact that Dean had died before the Mark had taken over. Sam’s mission had been to save his brother in whatever way was still available to him. If he couldn’t save his life, then the least he could do was save him from what he’d become. Save him from the Pit. Sam hasn’t been able to figure out what Castiel is hoping to accomplish. He’s still not sure as they sit by Dean’s bedside, discussing what to do next. Their quiet voices fill the room, somehow making it feel even more empty.   
  
“To truly save Dean from damnation, he will have to willingly give up the Mark of Cain, preferably transferring it back to its original owner,” Castiel says, leaning back in his chair.  
  
The angel looks exhausted. The last time Sam had seen Castiel this wore out, he was well on his way to becoming human during the Apocalypse. He’s falling again, and it seems to be happening quicker this time around. Sam wonders if that’s because what’s left of the grace inside Castiel wasn’t his original grace. He hasn’t had the nerve to ask.  
  
Sam sighs, “Even if we can convince Cain to take it back, how are we going to get Dean to give it up? You said he’d have to do so willingly, right? We’re not going to get anything out of him one way or the other right now.”  
  
Dean hasn’t moved since they’d gotten him settled. If it wasn’t for the rise and fall of his chest when he breathed, Sam would think he was dead all over again. He has to keep reminding himself that Dean is dead, regardless of what it appears. Despite what Sam wants the truth to be. To think anything otherwise would be too painful in the long run. It’s a while before either of them speak again. Castiel studies Dean with an intensity that would have had Dean squirming if he were awake.  
  
“Do you have any African dream root here?” Castiel asks, out of nowhere.  
  
“Yeah. Why?”  
  
Castiel looks at Sam for the first time since they’d recovered Dean, “I’m going to speak with Dean.”  
  
**********  
  
Castiel knows Sam thinks he’s losing it. Maybe he is. They drag a rollaway bed into the room, setting it up close to Dean’s bed. Castiel takes a seat on it, as Sam combines the African dream root with the other necessary ingredients. He watches as Sam pulls a couple hairs from his brother’s head, throwing them into the cup with the rest of the mixture. Castiel doesn’t know if this will work. He has hypothesized that while Dean isn’t dreaming in the normal, human sense, there should still be enough humanity about him to put him in a similar state. If that’s the case, then Castiel can find him. Castiel will find him.  
  
“OK,” Sam says, handing him the glass, “You sure about this?”  
  
Castiel nods as he drinks the concoction down in a couple of gulps. He makes a face as he hands Sam the glass back before laying back on the rollaway bed, head hitting the pillow as he swings his legs up.  
  
“You’ll need to find Cain,” Castiel says, looking up at Sam.  
  
“I think I’ve already got a lead, but I don't know how I’m going to get Cain to do this.”  
  
“I have faith in you.”  
  
Sam gives him a small smile, “Cass, you know this might not work.”  
  
“Sam --”  
  
“Look, I want him back as much as you do. I’m going to do everything in my power to get Cain here and I know you can get to Dean. It’s just...”  
  
“What?”  
  
“The best we can hope for is saving Dean from going back to Hell. If we manage this.. If we get Dean to give up the Mark, we don't know for sure that Dean will still be --" Sam pauses, unable to admit that Dean might be irrevocably dead, "I’m trying to come to terms with that possibility, I really am, but I don’t think you’ve even started.”  
  
Castiel looks away. The only acceptable end game to all of this is Dean Winchester alive and well. He knows Sam wants the same, but he’s being far more practical about it than Castiel. It’s Sam’s way of trying to distance himself from the pain of losing Dean. It won’t work. Sam will be just as distraught if Dean suffers a more permanent death as he was when Metatron killed him. Castiel can’t be practical. He won’t accept this as their reality. He saved Dean once and he’ll do it again, even if it kills him.  
  
He looks away from Sam, choosing to stare up at the ceiling instead, “You won’t have much time. What grace I have left will help me stay under longer than normal, but I won’t be able to hold it indefinitely.”  
  
“How long?”  
  
“A day. Two at the most.”  
  
“All right,” Sam says, laying a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. He gives it a squeeze, “Good luck, Cass.”  
  
“You too, Sam.”  
  
He hears Sam move towards the door, but his footsteps stop, “Hey Cass? When you see Dean, tell him -- Tell him I --”  
  
Castiel leans up enough to look at him, “I will, Sam, but I can tell you that he already knows.”  
  
Sam's eye find his shoes. He nods as he heads out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Castiel settles back in, his vision starting to blur at the edges. He turns his head to his left, studying Dean’s profile. He reaches a hand out, trying to touch the man in the bed next to him, but his arm feels heavy. Like it’s filled with sand. His arm drops off to the side, bridging the small gap between the two beds, his fingers brushing against Dean’s side. Castiel watches Dean breathe as he slips under, their breaths falling into time. In and out. In and out. In and...  
  
**********  
  
Sam’s lead is Crowley, who he has tied in the dungeon. Again. If Sam has his way, the demon won’t be making it back out. Not alive, anyway. Before they’d left the scene of the battle, Sam had thrown the King of Hell in the trunk of the Impala for the trip back to the Bunker. It was like déjà vu, only this time it was Sam behind the wheel and Dean the one fighting for his life. No one had questioned Sam taking Crowley. He isn't sure what he would have done if someone had.  
  
Crowley looks up when Sam opens the door. The demon sits on the ground, arms over his head, chains keeping him flush against the wall. Sam had been a little over enthusiastic when he’d been locking Crowley up. The demon still looks worse for wear, cuts and bruises littering his face.  
  
“Come for another round have we?”  
  
“Where is Cain?” Sam asks, coming to a stop in front of Crowley.  
  
The demon perks up, “Why would you want to know that?”  
  
“This isn’t a game, Crowley,” Sam says, crouching down so that he’s level with the demon, “Where is he?”  
  
Crowley smiles, “You can’t save him, you know. Whatever plan you and Dean’s pet angel have cooked up won't work.”  
  
Sam punches Crowley, sending the demon’s head knocking back into the stone wall. He looks dazed as he spits some blood out before turning back towards Sam.  
  
“Touchy aren’t we?”  
  
“I’m not going to ask again.”  
  
Sam pulls Ruby’s knife out, holding it in his hand loosely, letting Crowley get a good, long look at it.  
  
“If you kill me, you’ll never find him.”  
  
“You and Dean found him once. I’m willing to take my chances.”  
  
He raises the knife, ready to strike. For a moment, Sam thinks the demon is going to call his bluff, but if there is one thing you can count on Crowley to do it, it’s that he will do whatever it takes to save his own hide.  
  
“Cain is in Missouri. Or at least he was.”  
  
Sam lowers the knife, “Give me details.”  
  
**********  
  
Castiel jerks awake, lying on his stomach, face pressed against a cold, concrete floor. He pushes himself up, straightening his shirt and trench coat as he stands. The sight of the tan colored material under his hands gives the angel pause. He’d long since gotten rid of the coat and clothes Jimmy Novak had been wearing the night he’d become Castiel’s vessel. Jimmy’s soul had been sent to Heaven years ago, but those clothes had remained with Castiel, becoming almost like his vessel’s second skin.  
  
He looks down at himself. Same black dress suit with the white dress shirt and loose, backwards blue tie dangling from around his neck. As comfortable and reassuring as it is to see his old outfit, it’s still disconcerting. Castiel had been dressed in a gray, long sleeve Henley, jeans, and boots when he’d settled in on the bed next to Dean’s.  
  
_Dean..._  
  
Taking in his surroundings, Castiel gets the vague impression that he’s in some kind of room. He can’t see the ceiling or the walls, the space cavernous, but he feels confined here, no matter how much space there is. While it’s not pitch black, the area he’s in is far from well lit. Off in the distance, Castiel can see the dim glow of light. He moves towards it and finds it's emanating from a tight corridor. Castiel starts down it, the white surrounding him. By all rights, Dean shouldn’t be too far off, but Castiel moves with caution.  
  
He doesn’t know what Dean he’s going to run into or what state the hunter will be in when he finds him. Back in that basement under the factory, Castiel had seen Dean come back out from under the Mark’s influence. He’d been Dean again, even if for only a few moments. It’s what made Castiel sure that Dean is still in here somewhere.  
  
It reminds Castiel of Sam talking about what it was like to fight his way back from his memories of Hell. To pull himself back together, he’d had to destroy the parts of himself that remembered his time in the Cage and the part that had been in control when Sam had been without his soul. The angel feels a pang of remorse just thinking about it. He’d been the one to break Sam’s wall. He’d put his friend through that. Sam and Castiel had worked through their issues long ago. While neither would ever be able to forget their past wrongs, they’d managed to move through it, their friendship stronger despite everything. Castiel shakes his head. It won’t do him or Dean any good to allow his thoughts to go down that road, especially now.  
  
Castiel nears the source of the white glow, the light flickering along the walls like the projector of a movie screen. The corridor empties out into another room. This one, however, is not empty. He stands in the dining room of a house, looking in towards the kitchen. He sees someone he recognizes as Mary Winchester, bustling about. Behind him, a three-year-old version of Dean sits watching cartoons on TV.  
  
Castiel pays the scene little mind. The small version of Dean isn’t the one he’s looking for. The angel edges his way towards the doorway that leads into the kitchen. Peaking around the corner, he finds his Dean slumped against wall. Castiel falls to his knees next to the man. He raises his hands to reach out to Dean, catching himself before he makes contact.  
  
Dean hasn’t looked at him yet, his vacant stare directed at the kitchen in front of him. Castiel doesn’t want to frighten him and do more damage to Dean’s already fragile psyche. Instead, Castiel sits on the ground next to him. Waiting. He watches the scene unfold, expecting something awful to happen. Nothing does. John comes in through the backdoor, hugging Mary and giving her a kiss on the cheek as he puts his lunchbox down on the counter. John turns and smiles.  
  
For a second, Castiel thinks Dean’s father is looking at him, but John Winchester is looking beyond him. Castiel looks around the corner, expecting to find three-year-old Dean. The boy is gone, but the TV is still on. Castiel turns back, confused. John’s smile lasts a bit longer before it fades, an odd look on his face. It’s almost like he’s as confused as Castiel. Mary says something to him as she runs water over some carrots she’s washing in the sink. John turns back towards her, hand on the small of her back.  
  
The scene changes around them. A younger version of Sam playing soccer, John sitting in the stands, watching his son. Sam appears to be about eight. Castiel looks for the younger version of Dean, but he doesn’t spot him in the crowd. He can’t imagine that Dean wasn’t there to cheer Sam on. The scene changes again. The angel sees Sam making friends on a school playground. There’s an eleven-year-old Sam talking and laughing with a group of his peers while on a field trip. He sees a thirteen-year-old Sam dressed in a suit and tie, sliding out of the backseat of the Impala, nervous as he helps a girl his age out of the car and leading her into what appears to be a school dance.   
  
Castiel remains next to the real Dean, neither of them moving. He doesn’t understand what’s going on here. These are all happy memories, so far as Castiel can tell. He glances over at the Dean next to him. His stare is as blank as it was when Castiel first arrived. Shouldn’t these images be providing Dean some kind of comfort?  
  
“They would have been better off without me,” Dean says, as if he can read Castiel’s mind and for all the angel knows, he might be able to in this place.  
  
Castiel jumps at the sound of Dean’s voice. He doesn’t look at the angel, but at least he’s acknowledging his existence.  
  
“I think all of them would disagree with you,” Castiel says.  
  
They sit in silence for a few moments, watching as Sam receives his high school diploma. Sam waves it at someone in the crowd, but he can’t find John or another version of Dean sitting anywhere near where Sam is smiling at. Dean turns to Castiel, his once vivid green eyes now dulled. Castiel feels like he can’t breathe.  
  
“They’d be wrong,” Dean says, as he stares at the angel.  
  
Something clicks in his mind as he studies Dean’s face, “You’re erasing yourself from these memories.”  
  
The reason Castiel can’t find Dean in the crowd is because Dean has taken himself out. John must not have not have been at Sam’s graduation. He hadn’t noticed who was driving the Impala when Sam was dropped off for his school dance, because it had been Dean playing chaperone that night.  
  
“So what if I am? They’re my memories.”  
  
“But why?”  
  
“I told you, they --”  
  
“No,” Castiel says, turning fully towards Dean, “Even if you truly believe that everyone in your life would have been better off without you, changing your memories doesn’t do anything to alter the past. It only serves to --”  
  
The angel stops, the realization feels like a slap in the face.  
  
“Say it,” Dean says, turning back to watch Sam walk back to his seat amongst his high school classmates.  
  
Castiel swallows around a lump in his throat, “You’re torturing yourself with your best memories.”  
  
“Got it in one.”  
  
“Dean --”  
  
“I don’t deserve these, Cass. After everything I’ve done, I don’t deserve anything.”  
  
“That’s not true.”  
  
“I’ve hurt Sammy. I’ve hurt you --”  
  
“People hurt each other all the time, it doesn’t mean --”  
  
“-- I’ve killed people. Innocent people. Because of what I am now. Because of what I volunteered for. Because I’m... I’m...”  
  
Dean crumbles. Castiel has never seen anything more terrifying. He’s seen Dean shed a few tears, but nothing like this. His body convulses, wrecked by the force of his sobs. Here, in his own head, Dean can’t hide. He can’t keep his emotions in check like he does in the real world. There are no coping mechanisms when you’re lost in your own head. Castiel holds him, arms circling tight around Dean, at a loss for what he can do. Dean clutches at him, hands twisting and untwisting in the fabric of the trench coat the hunter’s mind supplied him with. Castiel hopes the familiarity gives Dean a little bit of the comfort it had given the angel when he’d first woke up here.  
  
Rubbing at his back, Castiel rests his chin on the top of Dean’s head as the hunter hides in the crook of his neck. He can feel the tears on his skin, soaking into the collar of his shirt. The scenes change around them still, but neither Castiel nor Dean pays them any mind. Castiel isn’t sure how long it takes for Dean to settle back down. When he does, Dean doesn’t release Castiel, keeping arms wrapped firm around the angel’s waist underneath his trench coat. Dean holds on to Castiel like his life depends on it. Maybe it does.  
  
Castiel tilts his head down, resting his lips against Dean’s ear, keeping his voice low and soft, “You are not the only one whose become a monster. Have you already forgotten all the atrocities I committed in Heaven and on Earth? I’m no different from you.”  
  
“Cass --”  
  
“This isn’t up for discussion. I am no different than you, Dean. The things I’ve done. What I became...” Castiel pauses, pushing away his own sense of self-loathing, “It’s hard, fighting your way back, but if anyone can do it, you can.”  
  
“Is that why you’re here? To save me?”  
  
“There is no other place I’d rather be. I’m not leaving you here alone. If I have to, I’ll drag you out myself,” Castiel says, pulling back to make Dean look at him. The angel gives him a small smile, “Even if you fight me. Even if you throw a tantrum and tell me this is what you deserve. None of which would surprise me in the least, by the way.”  
  
Dean snorts as he leans back against Castiel, head resting against the angel’s chest, “You calling me a kid, Cass?”  
  
“No, you’re just a stubborn ass.”  
  
Castiel is rewarded with a short chuckle from the man in his arms. He hugs him closer, enjoying the feeling of holding Dean without the frenzy. Dean seems to like it as well, nestling into him, his arms still fixed around Castiel, but not clutching like before.  
  
“Do you think, perhaps, we could see a few good, intact memories?” Castiel asks, wanting to fortify Dean before they try to make their way out of here.  
  
“I think this is a pretty good one.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Well, not the mental breakdown thing or whatever the hell is going on in my head right now, but this right here?” Dean says, squeezing Castiel as he nuzzles his nose against Castiel’s jawline, “Yeah, it’s nice.”  
  
The angel isn’t sure if the Dean he’s holding is all of Dean Winchester. He doubts it. But it’s clear this Dean possesses all the thoughts, emotions, and memories of the man Castiel knows so well. If the human soul had a heart, that would be the part Castiel has tucked against him.  
  
“It is pleasant,” Castiel says, voice gruffer than it should be.  
  
There are so many emotions warring underneath the angel’s skin. There’s so many things they’ve left unsaid. If Castiel and Sam can’t save Dean, this might be the only chance he has to say them. He doesn’t want to admit that. He refuses to admit defeat. But can he live with himself if he never gets to tell Dean?  
  
“Dean, I’m -- I haven’t been...” Castiel trails off, unsure where to begin.  
  
Dean huffs, breath ghosting across Castiel’s neck, “Now you know why I always had a ban on ‘chick flick’ moments. Not easy, is it?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to.”  
  
“I do want to.”  
  
“I know,” Dean says, “It’s weird, but I can kind of feel it. Feel you. I guess because we’re in my head. There's fewer places to hide, even for you.”  
  
Castiel wishes that were the case. While this Dean is more free with the way he feels, both good and bad, the angel knows the darkness that consumed Dean is hiding somewhere in here. It’s still eating away at him, and it’s bound to rear its head sooner rather than later.  
  
“Don’t do that,” Dean says, nudging him in the ribs.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Don’t drift off into the dark,” Dean says, “I’ve been alone here for a long time, Cass.”  
  
“I know you have,” Castiel says, not wishing to think how much time has passed since Dean had turned.  
  
“I don’t mean just the Mark. Before then, too.”  
  
Castiel looks down at him, puzzled, “You were with Sam before that.”  
  
“Yeah, but I messed everything up. Again,” Dean says with a shrug, “We were together, but we spent most of the year before all this happened not talking. I pushed Sam away.”  
  
“Sam doesn’t care about any of that. He just wants you back.”  
  
The angel doesn’t tell him how tore up Sam has been since Dean disappeared with Crowley. It won’t help Dean any to dwell on it and Castiel is certain Dean already knows.  
   
“I pushed you away too,” Dean says, sighing.  
  
“Because Gadreel told you to. You were trying to protect your brother.”  
  
“That was a big part of it, sure,” Dean says, sitting up a little so he can see Castiel, “But I’d be lying if I didn’t say that it made things a helluva lot easier on me.”  
  
“I don’t understand,” Castiel says, brow furrowed.  
  
“If you weren’t there, I didn’t have to deal with what I was feeling about you. I don’t know, man. Ever since Purgatory, it got harder not to --” Dean looks away, “I thought time would pass. I thought it’d stop somehow, if we weren’t around each other as much as we had been. But it didn’t. It didn’t go away. If anything, it got worse.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“I’m the moron that made you go. The hell are you sorry for?”

“I don’t know. It seems to be the standard phrase people say in situations where there’s nothing they can do.”  
  
Dean rolls his eyes, but grins as he leans back against Castiel, “You really are learning how to be human.”  
  
“I am sorry that you felt... That I didn’t know,” Castiel says after awhile, “It hurt when you told me I couldn’t stay with you and Sam. In many ways, it was worse than my brothers and sisters turning on me during the Apocalypse.”  
  
“Cass --”  
  
The angel doesn’t let Dean stop him. He was serious when he said that he wanted to tell Dean.  
  
“I wasn’t sure why at the time, but now I know. I’ve loved you so many ways for so many years, Dean Winchester. I wasn’t even aware that’s what it was.”  
  
Castiel takes a faltering breath before he continues.  
  
“I’ve lived for eons. I’ve seen so much. I know languages that have never crossed human tongues, and I will never be able to tell you what I feel for you. How much I feel for you.”  
  
Cupping Dean’s cheek in his hand, Castiel uses it to tilt the man’s head enough to allow him to press his lips against Dean’s forehead. He feels wetness against his fingers. Castiel doesn’t comment on it.  
  
“What’s a guy supposed to say to that?” Dean asks, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.  
  
“You don’t have to say anything.”  
  
They sit in the quiet, both enjoying the comfort of arms holding tight around them, but Castiel knows they need to start moving. He doesn’t want to, though. He’d be happy to stay right here, away from the world and away from the monster still lurking inside Dean.  
  
“So?” Castiel asks, eventually.  
  
“So what?”  
  
“Quit stalling and show me some of your good memories.”  
  
Dean chuckles, “You think I was stalling?”  
  
“I think we both were.”  
  
Sitting up, Dean leans against the wall instead of Castiel, “Fine. Some of my greatest hits, huh?”  
  
Castiel just nods as they both turn back to their surroundings. Castiel isn’t sure what was playing before, too lost in Dean to pay any attention. The room shifts scenes again. Sam and Dean setting off fireworks in a field. John coming in through the motel room door to his waiting sons, smiling as he hugs them both, everyone relieved to see each other safe. Bobby pushing both boys on a swing set in a park, Sam giggling as he tries to match how high Dean is swinging. Dean and Sam lying out under the stars while camping, the Impala parked nearby, talking and laughing as the fire they’d made dies down. Castiel smiles, watching the Winchesters. Their lives have been filled with so much, not the least of which is the happiness they’re able to find in each other, despite the gruesome parts.  
  
He’s so wrapped up enjoying the sight of the two most important people in his life being happy that it takes a moment for Castiel to realize that the scenes have changed. Castiel is there as well. Movie night at Bobby’s house during the Apocalypse, Dean having to explain the references that go over Castiel’s head. The popcorn fight they’d had during the film and the clean-up afterwards, all done under Bobby’s watchful eye. There’s Dean teaching Castiel how to play poker. Castiel teaching Dean how to say some phrases in Enochian, as well as any human is able to anyway. Dean laughing, arm slung around Castiel’s shoulders as they walk down an alley towards the Impala after the brothel incident. Dean finding Castiel in Purgatory, hugging him tight by the side of the stream.  
  
Finally, there’s a scene in Bobby’s house, sometime during the Apocalypse. Sam has long since fallen asleep in one of the nearby chairs. Dean and Castiel sit alone on the couch, both researching through some of the older hunter’s books. Castiel watches as his other self starts to drop the book he’s holding, shaking himself when he feels it slipping from his grasp. The other Castiel’s eyes start to droop until he can’t fight it anymore, sleep taking him. The other Dean is surprised when he finds Castiel’s head on his shoulder, looking up from his book. He tries to wake the other Castiel up, but the angel only mumbles something incomprehensible.  
  
A fond smile tugs at the other Dean’s lips. He takes both of their books, setting them aside as he leans sideways. Head propped up by the arm of the couch and a threadbare pillow, Dean puts his feet up on the nearby coffee table, crossing them as he slides an arm behind Castiel’s shoulders, pulling the angel to him. The other Castiel goes without question, already fast asleep as he falls against the hunter, arm ending up slung across Dean’s waist. The other Dean reaches back, pulling the cord on the lamp next to them, drenching the room in sudden darkness. Castiel turns to look at the real Dean, speechless. Dean is staring at him, watching his every reaction.  
  
“I got up before anyone else did. I didn’t want Sam or Bobby to see. Tucked you in on the couch before heading off to my room,” Dean says, regret coloring his tone, “I’m not good at saying things, Cass, but I thought you should know.”  
  
Dean leans in, closing what little space there had been between them. As with all things, Castiel follows him, eyes slipping closed as they meet in the middle.


	2. A Heaven of Hell

Sam parks the Impala near the house Crowley had directed him to. It’s almost dark out, the sun fading fast behind the horizon line as the first and brightest stars wink down at him. Closing the door, Sam makes his way up to the porch, wood creaking under his boots as he goes. He knocks. Sam peeks in through the window in the door. He can’t make out much. Most of the house is dark, but there’s a light on in one of the rooms.  
  
He bangs on the door again. Crowley had told Sam that Cain wasn’t much for suffering visitors. He was going to have to make exception for Sam. He tries the doorknob, not surprised to find it locked. Taking out his lock kit, Sam gets to work picking it.  
  
“It’s not polite to break in on a man when he’s home, son,” a voice says off to his left.  
  
Sam jerks up right. A bearded man with salt and pepper hair stares at him from the side of the house, drying his hands off with a towel.  
  
“I don’t think it’s any more polite when he’s not home,” Sam says, “But leaving a guest stranded on your front porch isn’t exactly good manners either.”  
  
Cain gives a slight tilt of his head in agreement, studying Sam as he slings the towel over his shoulder, “In that case, I suppose I should invite you in.”  
  
Sam leaves the porch, following Cain around the house and in through the back door that leads into the kitchen. Cain tosses the rag on the counter as he gestures towards a wood table and some chairs.  
  
“Take a seat,” Cain says, hands dipping back into the sink where he’d been washing dishes before Sam had knocked.  
  
Sam sits, watching the man as he cleans a few bowls and plates. Wiping each down, he rinses them under the tap before placing them in a rack on the counter to dry. He’s meticulous, pace steady and practiced, his face unreadable.  
  
“I assume you’re here about your brother.”  
  
“You know who I am?”  
  
“I doubt there are many otherworldly creatures that don’t know who you are, Sam,” Cain turns long enough to raise an eyebrow at him before returning to his work, “Besides, I don’t get many visitors out here.”  
  
Sam leans towards him, “If you know I’m here about Dean, then you know what I’ve come to ask you.”  
  
Cain nods, finishing up the last of his dishes. He drains the sink, the sound of water swirling through and down the drain filling the room. Cain picks up the towel again, drying his hands before hanging it up on a nearby hook. Turning, he leans against the counter, arms crossed as he considers Sam.  
  
“You know that Dean took on the Mark of his own accord.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“You know that I tried to warn him what would happen, but he wouldn’t listen.”  
  
Sam snorts, but nods. That’s Dean all over.  
  
“And yet, here you are, asking me to reverse that which your brother willingly accepted.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Silence falls, the only sounds coming through the open window from the woods outside the house. Leaves rustling together in the cool breeze as crickets chirp. Sam even thinks he can hear the sounds of a few birds’ wings fluttering as they take flight. Whether to find shelter or hunt for food, he couldn’t say.  
  
“Why should I do what you ask of me? Why should I put myself back in those chains?” Cain asks as he hooks the leg of one of the chairs with his foot, pulling it out so he can sit down, “I’m sure by now you’ve realized how much of burden the Mark is, at least as much as any bystander can.”  
  
“If you mean I’ve had to watch my brother become a monster, then yeah, I kind of get the picture.”  
  
Cain sighs, staring at him, eyes weary, “We’re all monsters, Sam. From what I’ve heard of you Winchesters, you both know that more than most.”  
  
“Dean isn't a monster,” Sam says, refusing to back down.  
  
“All of us are a few short steps away from becoming our own worst nightmares. The Mark feeds off of the awful things that makes us all so damn human.”  
  
“If you really have heard about us, then you know I’m not going to stop until I get Dean back.”  
  
Cain chuckles, leaning back in his chair, “Yes, your drive to sacrifice yourselves for each other is as legendary as the battles you’ve won.”  
  
Sam swallows before continuing, “You know what that’s like too, don’t you?”  
  
Cain gives him a sharp look, “Do not use my brother as a means to your ends. You know nothing of our story.”  
  
“You’re right, I don’t know the specifics, but I know enough,” Sam says, forcing himself to keep eye contact, “In the story of Sam and Dean, I’m Able. I’m the one tempted by the devil. I’m the one Dean’s had to constantly save. He’s been saving me my whole life, ever since he carried me out of the fire that killed our mom.”  
  
Sam pauses, taking a breath, “I’m sorry you lost your brother, but you were able to save him too, right? I’m asking you to help me do the same for Dean.”  
  
Cain looks away, lost in thought. Sam can’t take a breath, afraid even the slightest shift of air between them might ruin everything. Somewhere from the depths of the house the deep bell of a grandfather clock tolls, ringing in a new hour.  
  
“If I do this for you, there is something I need you to do for me.”  
  
Sam lets out the breath he’d been holding, relief surging through him “Sure. Anything.”  
  
“Do not make the same mistake that your brother did and agree too soon,” Cain says, eyes finding Sam’s again, “What I ask will be no small feat.”  
  
**********  
  
It had taken some time for Castiel to persuade Dean to detach himself from the angel’s lips. In truth, it hadn’t been easy for either of them. Dean isn't sure where they’re headed and from the looks of things, Castiel doesn’t have a clue either. They’d found a door leading out into the wilds of Dean’s mind, which had turned out to be a beach. At least so far.  
  
Dean longs to go back to that room, crawl back into Castiel’s arms, and never leave. He feels exposed out here, stuck between the ocean and a thick forest of trees off to their right. His eyes dart from one side to the other as they make their way down the sandy beach, Castiel’s hand in his. That touch is the only thing keeping him sort of steady. Dean feels like they’re being watched. He’d like to chalk that up to nerves or paranoia, but he knows they probably are.  
  
“Dean, you need to calm down,” Castiel murmurs to him, squeezing his hand.  
  
“Easier said that done.”  
  
It’d be one thing if it were just Dean that the part of him controlled by the Mark of Cain was hunting. But Castiel’s here now. Dean has to keep him safe.  
  
“Your agitation will only draw it in.”  
  
Dean takes a deep breath in, letting it out slowly. Castiel’s right of course, but the angel seems to be laboring under the delusion that if they slip their way through without drawing attention to themselves, the beast won’t awaken. Dean knows the truth. It’s not a matter of if the part of him consumed by the Mark finds them, it’s a question of when. The thing that’s hunting them already has them surrounded because it is Dean. Hell, he’s been trying to hide from it for what feels like decades, and he hasn’t been able to do it yet.  
  
The sun is slowly rising, drenching the sky in reds and oranges. It looks like a damn greeting card or a scene from something playing on the Lifetime Movie Network. Or a horror movie. Romantic couple strolls down beach hand in hand, but little do they know a monster stalks them from the tree line only a few yards away, just waiting to rip them to shreds. Awesome. He must have been mumbling the last part of that out loud because Castiel glares at him.  
  
“What? Metatron filled your head with all kinds of pop culture references, right? This is exactly the kind of thing that would happen in a horror flick. Thank god all we did was kiss back there or we’d really be screwed, and not in the fun way.”  
  
Castiel stops moving, pulling on Dean’s hand to stop his forward progress. The angel wraps his arms around him, keeping him still. Dean could get used to this. It’s safe here, even if he still feels like a thousand eyes are burning holes in the back of his neck.  
  
“You have to stop this, Dean. I can’t protect you if you’re going to make yourself an easy target,” Castiel says, lips pressing against Dean’s temple before he continues, “I will not let it take you, but I need your help. All we have to do is get you out long enough to give Cain the Mark back.”  
  
Not for the first time since the angel had told him about Sam and Castiel’s big plan to save him, Dean’s thoughts turn to his little brother. He hopes he’s all right. He doesn’t think Cain would hurt him since he’s no longer under the influence of the Mark. It doesn’t mean Dean isn’t still worried about Sam.  
  
Castiel makes it like this is going to be easy. He wishes he could believe him. He forces himself to relax as much as he can, for the angel’s peace of mind if nothing else. Castiel rubs his back where his hands hold him before releasing him. Dean’s sense of unease comes flooding back as he leaves the circle of Castiel’s arms, but he fights it down. Castiel takes his hand again and they start back down the beach.  
  
They don’t make it another half mile before they’re attacked. Darkness engulfs them, pulling and tugging at them, trying to rip them apart.  
  
“Cass!” Dean shouts, holding on as tight as he can to the angel’s hand.  
  
Dean can hear laughter echoing in his ears. His laughter. He can’t see Castiel anymore, the shadows blinding him to anything less than an inch in front of his face. Dean tries to drag Castiel towards him. He can feel the angel fighting for some kind of foothold, doing his best to make his way closer to Dean.  
  
It occurs to Dean much too late that he should have seen the flaw in Castiel’s logic. Dean knows himself. If anything, he knows the worst parts better than the rest. It was never going to be Dean that the damned part of him would come for.  
  
It’s Castiel.  
  
He feels the angel’s hand ripped from his. The darkness leaves him collapsed on the beach, gasping for breath. Dean scrambles to his feet, sputtering as he screams Castiel’s name. He watches the black mass disappear into the trees, taking Castiel with it.  
  
**********  
  
Castiel comes to strung up in some kind of one room shack. Coming back to himself is a slow process. Slower than it should be. His head lulls around as he’s jostled, hands grabbing at him, dragging his arms up over his head.  
  
“You with me, Cass?”  
  
He tries to clear his vision, shaking his head. He blinks up at the face swimming in front of him. It’s Dean, but not his Dean. This one’s eyes are black.  
  
“Giving me the cold shoulder?” Dean asks, leering in closer, nose grazing Castiel’s cheek as he turns away from this damned version of Dean, “Come on, don’t be like that. I let you have your fun with the rest of me. Least you can do is be sociable.”  
  
“Where’s Dean?” Castiel asks keeping his head turned.  
  
“I’m right here.”  
  
“You know what I mean.”  
  
“Sure I do, but do you?” Dean asks, grabbing Castiel’s chin with his other hand, forcing him to stare into those black eyes, “You’re not an idiot, Cass. You may not like it, but I’m him too.”  
  
“This isn’t what you are. You’re being controlled by the Mark.”  
  
“You sure about that?” Dean asks, grinning as his eyes flick down to Castiel’s mouth.  
  
Dean crowds him. One of his legs slides between Castiel’s as Dean lets his body rest flush against him, his left hand still holding Castiel’s wrists above his head. Instinct kicks in as Castiel tries to pull away, even though his back is already flat against the wood wall behind him. Testing his feet, Castiel realizes that he’s bound at the ankles. He can’t move. Dean’s hand trails down Castiel’s neck, fingers sliding across his skin.  
  
“You remember finding me in Hell, don’t you, Cass?” Dean asks in a whisper as his lips brush against the shell of his ear.  
  
Castiel feels the slight press of Dean’s thumb against his Adam’s apple as he swallows.  
  
“By the time you got your feathery ass down there, I was enjoying every second I spent torturing souls. I was good at it, too. You remember, Cass? That wasn’t the Mark. That was all me.”  
  
Castiel raises his eyes to the ceiling, mind racing. Dean’s hand keeps traveling down, his fingers pausing as they reach the first button of Castiel’s shirt.  
  
“Don’t,” Castiel growls.  
  
“You would have let him,” Dean says, breath tickling near his ear. His fingers play with it, but he doesn’t undo the button, “Not what I’m after. Not yet anyway.”  
  
Dean leans back far enough to wink at him as he starts to unravel the loose knot of Castiel’s blue tie. The angel feels the material drag across the back of his neck as this version of Dean pulls on it, eyes never leaving Castiel’s. When the last of it slips out from under his shirt collar, Dean takes the tie and starts wrapping it around Castiel’s wrists, pulling tight. He secures it to something over the his head, freeing up both hands.  
  
Dean lowers his arms, one coming to a rest beside Castiel’s head, while the other drops down to Castiel’s hip. He can feel Dean’s thumb making lazy circles through the thin cotton of his shirt. Without warning, Dean backs off, turning away from the angel. The shack is the size of a small garage. One light dangles overhead, leaving the corners drenched in shadow. Dean moves to the outer edges of the shack, the outline of his back the only thing left visible.  
  
The sound of metal scraping against metal fills the small space. Castiel tries to think of something to say. The best he can hope for is that he can keep this Dean talking long enough for... For what, exactly? For Sam to bring Cain? It won’t help. Castiel lost the Dean who needs to give up the Mark back on that beach. He tries to keep his thoughts from dwelling on where his Dean is now, pushing his panic down.  
  
“Don’t worry, the rest of me is still out there somewhere,” Dean says, apparently as in tune with Castiel as his Dean is, “I didn’t do anything to him.”  
  
“You can’t do anything to him,” Castiel says, snapping at him.  
  
“You’re right. I’d only be hurting myself,” Dean says, grinning as he turns around, using the knife in his hand to point at Castiel as he steps back into the light, “You on the other hand, I can do whatever I want with.”  
  
“What are you planning to do, Dean?”  
  
“I thought we’d have a little fun,” Dean says, “For old time’s sake.”  
  
Black eyes stare him down as Dean presses against him again. With a smirk, he drags the blunt edge of the newly sharpened knife against Castiel’s neck.  
  
**********  
  
Dean runs through the trees, stumbling in his haste as he tries to maneuver over fallen logs and bumpy terrain. He isn't sure if he’s going the right direction. Everything looks the same to him. There are no markings. There's no pathway through these woods. All he has to go on is a gut feeling and that feeling is telling him that Castiel is somewhere up head.  
  
He’d had to talk himself down after the attack on the beach. He’d spent most of his time hiding from the rest of himself after the Mark had taken over. The feeling of having the worst parts of himself devouring him was almost more than Dean could handle. The fact that it had Castiel was the only thing that had gotten Dean up, first staggering and then sprinting through the forest. Branches grab at his shirt and coat, like hands trying to hold him back. He has cuts where thorny bushes have ripped through his clothes and tore into his hands as he makes his way through.  
  
When Dean breaks into a small clearing, it’s a shock. He comes to a stop, doubled over, his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath. He looks up to see a small log cabin situated among the trees. It looks like it’s dark inside, but he thinks he can see the dim glow of a light. He doesn't know if he’s in the right place until he hears the scream.  
  
“Cass?” Dean shouts, running toward the entrance.  
  
It takes two tries before Dean is able to kick the wooden door open. It swings wide, banging against the wall. Castiel is tied up on the opposite side of the room, feet chained, his arms held above his head by his own tie. All Dean can see is the top of his head, his messy black hair more mussed than usual. It’s too dark to see all the damage, but Dean can see blood on the angel’s shirt. And on the floor.  
  
“Cass!” Dean says, making a break for his angel.  
  
Castiel looks up, shock changing to terror, “Dean! Watch out!”  
  
He sees himself coming a mile away. Dean dodges, kicking his other self in the stomach, sending him crashing to ground. The part of himself controlled by the Mark is quick to recover, using the wall to help push back up to his feet.  
  
“Why do you always have to ruin my fun?” the other Dean asks, black eyes glinting.  
  
“Leave him alone you, son of a bitch,” Dean says, spiting the words out as he goes for his other self, landing a blow to the guy’s face.  
  
They’re on the ground after that, grappling with each other as they both get shots in. Dean manages to get a glance at Castiel. The angel’s face is beaten and bloody. He’s struggling with his tie, trying to get his hands free. Dean knows he’s not going to get out that way. He knows how well trained he is at stringing people up for torture. The thought makes him angry, as he tears into himself with renewed vigor.  
  
They’re getting nowhere fast. They’re both Dean. They know where they’re going to hit next. They know all of their tricks. All of their moves. Dean might as well be shadowboxing for all the good it’s doing. Except his shadow packs one hell of a punch.  
  
“Cass, you need to get out of here,” Dean grunts at him as his other self gets the upper hand, grinding his face into the dusty wood floor.  
  
“I’m trying.”  
  
“No, you gotta wake up,” Dean says, managing to knock one of his other self’s legs out from under him.  
  
“I’m not leaving here without you!”  
  
He sees surprise in those black eyes as the other him falls to the ground, Dean on top of him, holding him down. He gets in a few good punches, leaving his black eyed self dazed for a second. It’s a good thing too. Dean had needed a little break. He’s getting tired.  
  
His other self takes advantage, knocking Dean on his ass as they go back to rolling around on the floor. If Castiel is going to have any kind of shot at getting out of here, Dean has to get control of his other self. He won’t need to hold him long. Just long enough for the angel to wake up. Dean uses what’s left of his strength to roll his other self over. He pins him on his stomach, as his other half struggles against his hold.   
  
“You have to go now!”  
  
He glances over at the angel. Castiel’s mouth is hanging open, eyes wide. He’s shaking his head, unable to speak.  
  
“Cass, damn it, come on!”  
  
“No.”  
  
He can feel his hold slipping. Dean reaches down, wrapping an arm around his other self’s neck, choking him. Dean was expecting a fight from the angel, but he doesn’t have time. He turns back to Castiel, eyes meeting one last time. God, how he wishes they had more time.  
  
“I’m sorry, Cass,” Dean says, trying to smile at the angel as he raises a hand towards him.  
  
He sees the look of shock on Castiel’s face as Dean forces the angel out of his head. The last thing he hears is Castiel yelling his name.  
  
**********  
  
Sam and Cain have been sitting and waiting in Dean’s room for over four hours. During that time, Sam had decided to take the demonic hand cuffs off of Dean, concerned that the markings might interfere with the transfer. They haven’t seen Castiel or Dean move a muscle while they’ve been here. The First Blade rests in Cain’s hand, his hold on it loose. Sam runs a hand through his hair, agitated. His thoughts drift back to the agreement he’d made with Cain hours earlier.  
  
***  
  
_“If I do this for you, there is something I need you to do for me.”_  
  
_Sam lets out the breath he’d been holding, relief surging through him “Sure. Anything.”_  
  
_“Do not make the same mistake that your brother did and agree too soon,” Cain says, eyes finding Sam’s again, “What I ask will be no small feat.”_  
  
_“What do you want?”_  
  
_“I want you to kill me.”_  
  
_Of all the things Sam had been expecting Cain to ask for, that was the last on his list._  
  
_“You -- You what?”_  
  
_“I can’t bear the burden any longer,” Cain says, leaning towards Sam, “If I do this, you must promise to kill me.”_  
  
_“How? I mean, the Mark brought Dean back from the grave.”_  
  
_“With the First Blade.”_  
  
_Sam shakes his head, anger seeping into his voice, “Dean already tried that. It won’t work.”_  
  
_“No, it won’t work for the person who bears the Mark. The First Blade and the Mark work together to protect themselves.”_  
  
_“Then how --”_  
  
_“If the First Blade is willingly relinquished, it can kill the person bearing the Mark.”_  
  
_“If that’s true, why haven’t you tried that already?”_  
  
_Cain sighs, leaning back in his chair. His eyes drift to the window over the sink, looking out into the darkness._  
  
_“I’ve tried, over the years, but I’ve never been able to fight off the hold the Mark has on me long enough to hand over the Blade. I’ve had centuries more practice fighting off the control of the Mark. I should be able to hold back long enough to give it to you.”_  
  
_“This sounds like a fool proof plan,” Sam says, shaking his head._  
  
_“It’s the only one you have.”_  
  
***  
  
It’s movement from Castiel’s bed that brings Sam out of his reverie. He stands watching as Castiel thrashes around. He moves to hold the angel down before he hurts himself, but Cain reaches out an arm to stop him.  
  
“Wait.”  
  
“What?” Sam asks, turning towards Cain.  
  
“You said he was digging into Dean to bring him out. If he’s waking up, then our window of opportunity is near,” Cain grimaces, “And it will be a short one.”  
  
Cain moves over towards Dean. Sam follows, his eyes still watching Castiel. Pushing his sleeve back, Cain does the same to Dean, gripping his arm.  
  
Cain glances at Sam, “When this happens, it will happen fast. Whatever immunity I have will be drained quickly. The Mark will try to protect itself. I will come after you.”  
  
Sam nods. Cain had already warned him about what to expect. While he was considerably stronger with the First Blade in his hand, Cain was the Mark’s original host. He’ll be hard to overpower even without his weapon. Seconds pass, Castiel’s movements still somewhat. His legs and arms twitch, hands clinching at his sides, but at least Sam’s not worried he’s going to go crashing off the bed.  
  
Castiel’s eyes fly open so sudden Sam almost misses it. The angel comes up gasping for breath. Wild eyes look around the room until they find the two figures standing over Dean.  
  
“Sam, now!” Castiel manages to choke out, the angel having trouble catching his breath.  
  
He turns to see Cain already in the process of transferring the Mark back to himself. Sam glances at Dean. His brother hasn’t moved and his eyes remain closed. He’s not sure what happened inside Dean’s head, but whatever it was must have put him back in the driver seat long enough to answer Cain’s request. Red streaks bleed away from Dean’s arm, leaving it Mark free as the red glow travels up to Cain. Sam takes a step back from him as Cain releases Dean’s arm, almost doubling over as the Mark reasserts its power.  
  
Cain manages to get himself upright enough to look at Sam, face twisted in pain. He’s gripping the First Blade tight, but he holds it out to Sam.  
  
“Take the Blade,” Cain says, voice strained, “Sam, take it, please.”  
  
Sam grabs for it, hand covering Cain’s as he pulls on what’s he can see of the hilt. It won’t move. Cain’s grip is too strong. For a moment, Sam thinks Cain won’t be able to pull it off, but then his fingers relax. The First Blade slides from Cain’s hand into Sam’s. He barely has time to get a good grip on the Blade before Cain is lunging for him. Sam dives out of the way, making a break for the door, not wanting Castiel to get caught in the line of fire.  
  
Sam sprints through the halls of the Bunker, Cain hot on his heels. He can hear the snarls and growls coming from the man behind him. It’s more like he’s being chased by an animal than a person. Sam clears the doorway leading into the library when Cain catches him, sending both of them slamming into one of the tables. Chairs scatter and topple as the table gives out under their combined weight.  
  
They crash to the floor, Cain tearing at Sam. They struggle, Sam unable to get the Blade up far enough to get in a killing blow. Cain gets a grip on Sam’s throat, hand clamping down tight. Sam gags as his air flow stops. He tries to keep the Blade out of Cain’s reach, his other hand grabbing at his throat, trying in vain to loosen Cain’s grip. Sam is close to unconsciousness when something barrels into Cain, sending him flying. Castiel must have gotten his sea legs back. Gasping for breath, he clambers to his knees, dragging himself over to where Cain lies stunned on the ground next to him. Sam raises the Blade high before burying it in Cain’s chest.  
  
Cain’s body convulses as the red streaks emanating from the Mark snake all over him, red and orange light flashing underneath his skin. It’s over in a matter of seconds. The lights die down as Cain’s breathing stops. The bright red glow of the Mark is the last to fade.  
  
**********  
  
Castiel can’t make his body cooperate. He’s helpless as Cain receives the Mark back from Dean and chases Sam out of the room. He tries to drag himself up, but Castiel is only able to make it as far as Dean’s bed. He all but collapses on top of Dean, gasping for air. His body feels like it’s on fire. He raises his head to look at the man under him. Dean isn't breathing, but he’s still warm, the Mark having kept his body going even while he was unconscious.  
  
The angel hadn’t expected the transfer of the Mark to bring Dean back. Despite what Sam thought, he’d never been in that much denial. This had always been the plan. Castiel’s plan anyway. His borrowed grace is fading fast. Much faster than he had been expecting. It’s why his body aches all over and his breathing is still ragged. He’s falling fast. He’d stayed under too long, and he’s sure the torture he’d suffered hadn’t done him any favors either. But it doesn’t matter.  
  
Castiel puts a hand against Dean’s chest, muttering Enochian between coughs as he tries to force air in and out of his lungs. Blue light shines underneath his palm as he goes. He pushes everything he has into Dean. Castiel’s body betrays him in the end, giving out as the last shreds of grace leave him.  
  
**********  
  
Dean jerks awake, disoriented. The last thing he remembers is finding a bloody and beaten Castiel in that shack and fighting with the Mark version of himself. He moves to sit up and quickly realizes that not only is he in his bedroom in the Bunker, but he has an unconscious angel in his lap.  
  
“Cass?” Dean asks, shaking the angel.  
  
He gets no response. Castiel is limp, head hanging loose as Dean tries to shake him awake. Castiel is breathing, his breaths shallow. Dean feels for a pulse. He’s shocked to find it weak, the beats thready at best. Panic shoots through him. Angel vessels don’t have changes in vital signs.  
  
“Cass, damn it, what did you do?”  
  
A loud crash from somewhere else in the Bunker has Dean up, ready for something to come attacking them through his open door. Nothing comes, but something’s going on out there and it doesn’t sound good. He tries to slide out from under Castiel as quick as he can without jostling him too much. With a worried glance back, he leaves the angel on his bed, tearing through the Bunker towards the source of the sound.  
  
He finds Cain straddling his little brother, choking him to death. Without a second thought, Dean rushes Cain, slamming into him. They both go tumbling, Dean knocking into one of the bookcases, sending books and files to the floor. He watches Sam kill Cain with the Blade. He watches as his brother leans back on his heels once it’s over, trying to catch his breath.  
  
“Cass, you all right?” Sam asks, turning towards Dean.  
  
Sam stops, mouth open when he sees that it’s Dean trying to get to his feet, not Castiel. Using the bookcase as leverage, Dean gets his legs under him. He staggers over to his brother, helping him up off the ground.  
  
“Dean?” Sam asks in disbelief.  
  
“Hiya Sammy,” Dean says trying for a smile, but doesn’t quite make it.  
  
Sam attacks him, his long, sasquatch arms almost crushing the air from Dean’s lungs as he hugs him. Dean holds on just as tight. Sam releases him, but keeps his hands on Dean like he’s afraid his going to disappear.  
  
“Dean, how --” Sam starts, eyes still wide with shock.  
  
“I don’t know. Cass did something. Sam he’s -- I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”  
  
Sam runs a hand through his hair, “It’s OK, Dean, we’ll figure it out.”  
  
**********  
  
Castiel is already conscious when the brothers make it back to Dean’s room. He’s trying to stand, but strong hands push him back down onto the bed.  
  
“Cass you stupid, son of a bitch, lie down.”  
  
“Dean?” Castiel asks, as he tries to sit back up.  
  
Dean’s face comes into view, Sam right behind him. He feels Dean’s hands on his chest, pushing him back down.  
  
“Yeah, I’m here,” Dean says with a smile that immediately turns into a frown, brow furrowed, “Jesus Cass, I thought you were a goner.”  
  
Castiel stares up at them both, confused, “I didn’t die when Metatron stole my grace, why would I die giving up someone else’s?”  
  
“Do I look like an angel doctor? How was I supposed to know that?”  
  
“Wait, you gave Dean what was left of your grace?” Sam asks, an edge to his voice, “That was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” Sam asks, angry.  
  
Castiel doesn’t say because it was easier to save the argument. Sam wouldn’t have wanted him to do it and Castiel was going to do it either way. They both wanted Dean back more than Castiel wanted to hold on to being an angel. Instead of answering them, he just shrugs, trying to keep his grin hidden as he enjoys the sounds of Dean and Sam berating him for being an idiot.  
  
**********  
  
After they give Cain’s remains a proper hunter’s burial, Castiel takes off. Sam gives him the keys to one of the Men of Letters’ cars, some money, and a few credit cards to get him started. His departure isn’t permanent. Castiel had wanted to give the brothers space to begin fixing what was broken between them. They needed it. But that isn’t the only reason Castiel strikes out on his own. He leaves for himself too.  
  
Castiel is human again. Last time around, he’d been a mess, never truly figuring out how to do this humanity thing right. Not that anyone really does. Still, this time, he wants things to be different. Castiel travels, driving from small towns to huge, sprawling cities and everything between. He stops whenever he feels like it. He sees the arch in St. Louis and Niagara Falls. He even visits New York City. He took a picture of himself standing in front of a sign with “Chrysler Building” engraved on it in the lobby and sent it to Sam. His friend had called him less than a minute after the picture had sent in hysterics. Castiel made it a point to send more pictures of his adventures after that.  
  
It all looks so different to him as a human. He talks to the locals whenever he can. He meets people in diners, parks, and road side attractions as he drifts through the different cities and towns, listening to their stories. Some of them have lost loved ones. Some are working multiple jobs trying to get through school. Some are simply lonely in a world filled to bursting with people, but they still keep trying. All of them keep trying. He marvels at how resilient they all are.    
  
When he’s tired he stops to sleep, sometimes in his car, but most of the time at a motel. When he runs low on cash, he calls on the skills he’d acquired over the years watching the Winchesters. He might have an excellent poker face, but he’s awful at the game. He sticks to hustling pool, which he’s very good at. He loses just enough to keep his opponents guessing. After his first few weeks on his own, Castiel even picks up a few hunts. He takes out a ghoul in West Virginia and a vengeful spirit in Texas, all on his own.  
  
He keeps in constant contact with Sam. Most of the time they text, but sometimes they talk on the phone. Things are going well back at the Bunker. According to Sam, it sounds like the brothers are rebuilding their relationship, slowly getting back to where they were. Maybe even better than they were before. Sam sounds happy and that’s enough for Castiel. He hasn’t spoken to Dean since the day he’d left.  
  
Castiel is driving down California’s Pacific Coast Highway, the cool breeze coming off the nearby ocean whipping through his open windows, when he hears his text alert go off. He doesn’t look at it until he stops for lunch a few hours later. He’s sitting on the hood of his car, munching on a burger as he looks out over the beautiful view when he remembers he’d forgot to read his text. Pulling out his phone while he takes a sip from his drink, Castiel goes to his messages. It’s from Dean.  
  
                                                                           **When are you coming home?**  
  
**********  
  
Dean had figured up exactly how long it should take Castiel to drive back to the Bunker. He knew he’d left Canon City, Colorado at about eight this morning. From there, if he didn’t hit any traffic, Castiel should be rolling in anywhere between five and eight that evening, depending on where he stopped for lunch and for how long. Apparently, Dean had been talking through his calculations out loud as he stared at the laptop in front of him. Sam had smacked the back of his head, telling him to shut up and that his boyfriend would be here when he gets here. Dean had been too wrapped up in the map he was looking at to come up with a proper, smart-ass retort.  
  
Sam had been on Dean to call or text Castiel a week after the former angel had left. Dean had flat refused. He knew how important making it on his own was to Castiel. How important it was to him that Sam and Dean have time to get their crap together. The two of them talked for an hour or two before the former angel had packed up to leave. They’d both agreed to hold off on discussing what had happened between them during Castiel’s misadventures through Dean’s noggin while he and Sam got things sorted out and Castiel sorted out himself.  
  
That had been a month and a half ago. After much yelling and crying and talking, things were well on the way to being hashed out between him and Sammy. Dean and Sam had even been out on a few, short hunts close to home in the last couple weeks. It hadn’t been as awful as Dean had thought it would be, talking about their feelings. After everything that’s happened and everything he’d almost lost forever, it just seems dumb to get hung up on it. Besides, Dean much prefers the benefits of being honest with his brother than trying to hide.

Being honest with himself has been harder than anything else. Sam and Castiel don't want to admit that the stuff Dean did while under the influence of the Mark of Cain was him. They want to see the good in him, no matter what, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. It helps remind Dean that yeah, there is a lot of good in him. But he isn't dumb enough to buy into the idea that what he did while under the Mark's influence wasn't all him. Deep down, he knows Sam and Castiel aren't either.

Sure, Dean was full on demon, but he also became a Knight of Hell. It's a whole different ballgame. He wasn't possessed. The Mark enhanced everything that was already lurking in Dean before, just like his forty years in Hell had done, only on overdrive. While he might hate that part of himself, he has to learn to accept it. To deal with it. That's going to take more than a month to manage. Hell, it might take the rest of his life.  
  
For the most part, Sam is happy, and so is Dean. But something was missing, and that something was Castiel. Not just for Dean either. While Dean had been lost, Sam and Castiel had bonded. They’d always been friends, but something had changed while Dean was out of the picture. They were closer. He could tell that just from watching Sam talk or text Castiel. Sam missed his friend every bit as much as Dean missed his...  
  
Well, as much as Dean missed Castiel.  
  
Dean had given Castiel space until he couldn’t take it anymore. He at least had to text the guy. Talk to him. Something. It had taken over an hour for Dean to compose his text message. He’d had to figure out what he wanted to say and how he’d wanted to say it. He didn’t want it to seem like he was demanding Castiel come home or that he was checking up on the guy. If Castiel wasn’t ready that was cool with Dean. He just felt like it was time to start talking again.  
  
He wasn’t used to being this nervous trying to talk someone, let alone just send a text. Dean’s finger had hovered over the send button for at least five minutes before he’d pressed it. And then he hadn’t heard back. He’d tried to tell himself that Castiel was busy sightseeing or something and he’d get back to him when he saw the message. It was the longest three hours Dean has ever waited on a message. He’d almost dropped his stupid phone when his text alert beeped.  
  
                                                                                         **Soon.**  
  
Dean didn’t know he could be so happy to see a one word text. It was enough. A week later and Castiel was due home in a matter of hours. Dean puttered around the Bunker, trying to pretend he wasn’t watching the clock. At five o’clock he was sat in the library. By six, he was up pacing back and forth across the floor. By two minutes after six, Sam had kicked him out of the Bunker because Sam said he couldn’t handle Dean “mooning over Castiel” anymore.  
  
All of this had culminated in Dean, leaning against the railings outside the Bunker. Dean sits with his head tilted back against one of the metal bars, enjoying the late summer sun. He hears the sound of a car at least a mile off. It’s so quiet out here it’s kind of hard not to. Dean stands, watching for any sign of the red car Castiel had drove off in. It feels like an eternity passes, but then it’s there, parked right in front of him. Dean has a ridiculous moment where he feels a sense of pride at how the car looks. It’s just as clean as it was the day it left. The former angel had done a good job taking care of it.  
  
That thought process lasts until Castiel gets out. Actually, all of Dean’s thoughts come to a screeching halt when he sees Castiel. Hair longer than it has been in the last few years, it’s still just as tousled and messy as it’s always been. It reminds Dean of what it used to look like back when he’d first met him. Castiel closes the car door, walking around the back of it towards Dean. He’s got on jeans and a blue t-shirt under a black leather jacket. Castiel is wearing aviator sunglasses. Dean’s of the opinion that he should never take them off.  
  
“Hello Dean,” Castiel says, voice just as deep and rough as Dean remembers.  
  
The former angel gives him a shy smile while he waits for Dean to respond.  
  
“Hey Cass,” Dean says, proud that he sounds like a normal person.  
  
“You look well.”  
  
Dean falters because all the words his brain supplies him with to describe how Castiel looks are not even in the ball park of being appropriate for their first real conversation in over a month, “Yeah, you look... Uh, good. You look good, Cass.”  
  
_Smooth, Winchester, real smooth_ , Dean thinks to himself, wondering what in the hell has happened to him.  
  
Castiel smirks at Dean, reaching up to scoot his sunglasses to the top of his head. Dean takes back everything he’d thought about Castiel keeping those glasses on forever. He opens his mouth to say something, but where does he start? Does he start with an apology for putting Castiel and Sam through so much? For torturing him while he was trying to save him?  
  
Does he tell the former angel that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about him while he’s been gone? How he can’t stop thinking about how it had felt to kiss him? Dean has built this moment up so much in his head, imagining how it would go down. Now that he’s here, he has no idea what to do. Castiel moves forward, pushing into Dean’s personal space, like always. He guesses some things never change.  
  
“We have a lot to talk about, you and I,” Castiel says, studying Dean.  
  
Dean swallows, “Yeah.”  
  
Castiel’s lips are pressing against his lips, insistent, before Dean can finish getting the word out. It elicits a startled sound from Dean. When his brain catches up, his eyes slide closed as he pulls the former angel to him, Castiel leaning against him as Dean braces them against the railing. It’s better than he remembers it being. It's real. It's not all just in his head. Dean’s hand slips into that riotous mess of hair as his other arm wraps around Castiel’s waist. The former angel clutches at Dean’s jacket. The kiss only lasts a matter of seconds and it’s over sooner than Dean would like. They keep their arms around each other as Castiel pulls back just enough so that he can see Dean’s face.  
  
“I missed you,” Dean says, unable to hold Castiel’s gaze as he says it.  
  
He’s better about telling people how he feels, but it doesn’t mean he’s a master at it or anything.  
  
“I missed you too, Dean,” Castiel says in a huff of laughter as he places a soft kiss against Dean’s cheek.  
  
Castiel lays his head against Dean’s chest, both wrapping their arms tighter around each other. Dean rests his chin on the top of Castiel’s head. Yeah, they’ve got a long way to go, but at least the company won’t be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to any and all readers/comment-leavers/bookmarkers/etc that stop by. You guys are awesome!
> 
> I hope this turned out all right. I think it did. Definitely the quickest I've ever got a story done, so hey, there's that!


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